Friday, 2 December 2011

Marc Jacobs's home: Parisian garden apartment filled with contemporary art


When Marc Jacobs moved to Paris in 1996 for Louis Vuitton, he lived in a hotel and later a rental. It was only when he saw a three-story garden apartment on the Champ de Mars (then owned by designer Jean-Charles de Castelbajac) that Jacobs felt an urge to put down roots.
 
Text by Christopher Bagley, Photographed by Philip-Lorca DiCorcia for W Magazine



Marc Jacobs sitting on the guest bedroom of his Parisian home. Here, the downstairs guest room, with Richard Prince’s Richard and Linda, 2005.

There is a photo of Marc Jacobs in his library with Ed Ruscha’s Heaven, 1986, and a sixties Dominique table, but I don't show it here because it shows Jacobs smoking. It was a recent 21st century article, so I suppose it's not acceptable to show smoking as a cool, arty look. 
 
Anyway, the following photos won't disappoint. 
 


John Currin’s Bra Shop, 1997, is one of several portraits in Marc Jacob's master bedroom. "I just like waking up in the company of all these odd people,". Among the Elizabeth Peyton paintings in the sitting room, left, is a portrait of Marc Jacobs  himself.  
 

Jacobs says he buys what he likes (works that tends towards the figurative, the graphic) and hangs it where he can see it. "Typical addict behavior," says the designer with a half smile. "I just got this bug. I started going to galleries, and I kind of went mad." On the upstairs landing, Damien Hirst’s Paracetamol, 2004–05, and Richard Prince’s Island Nurse, 2002.
 
Damien Hirst was twice voted the very top in ArtReview's Power 100 list. I thought that Boots Paracetamol art was just a poster from Boots itself. Am I a phillistine?
 

 
 
Jacobs in the courtyard off the garden-level office, with his two dogs, Alfred and Daisy, and two Lalanne frog chairs


Jacobs's decorator, Paul Fortune, is known for a refined style that combines old-school elegance with a certain modern ease. He and Jacobs decided to respect the apartment's French formalism while leaving room for an eclectic mix of old and new. Here, in the living room, Ed Ruscha’s Peach, 1964, John Currin’s The Go-See, 1999, and a Lalanne sheep sculpture.
 

Over the past year and a half, Jacobs has completely transformed himself from the inside out. Gone are the stringy hair, the plastic Seventies glasses and the baggy, chubby-guy sweatshirts. It's only now, while sporting defined triceps and a tan, that he can say, "I actually don't mind how I look." On the credenza in the den is Sean Landers’s Mr. Rabbit, 2003.


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